


Quit Ruining Nadal Matches for Me

by orphan_account



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-25
Updated: 2009-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-05 06:33:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	Quit Ruining Nadal Matches for Me

It had been a friendly invitation to tennis, nothing more.

 

 

Lisa Cuddy did enjoy her position as queen of all she surveyed. When her roving gaze encountered Amber Volakis trudging towards the side exit with a cardboard box of belongings, she cursed under her breath. 

 

 

“Shit.”

 

 

She had suggested he keep Taub and Kutner because she expected him to then keep the two diligent women who didn’t appear to have their heads turned by his scruffy charm.

 

 

Spotting the racquet bag over the shoulder of the retreating doctor, Cuddy found herself in motion across the lobby before she could think any more about it. Her turbo speed in heels served her well and in seconds, she was in a position to place a gentle hand on the elbow of the blond woman she had begun to respect from afar.

 

 

Proffered apologies seemed to fall on deaf ears, and a mention of the vacancy in Radiology raised only the briefest of flickers on Amber’s tear-stained face. Cuddy knew she was well-placed to offer advice about the disappointments of expecting anything from House, but for once she didn’t want this to be about him.

 

 

Nodding towards the racquet  confirmed that Amber did indeed play regularly. The invitation to join her for a match at her overpriced country club seemed the next logical thing for Cuddy to do, and if Amber was surprised she certainly didn’t show it.

 

 

A strange impulse to hug the younger woman gripped Cuddy suddenly, but after the briefest wrestling match with her icy professional side, the impulse did the honorable thing and died quietly.

 

 

With a warm smile passing between them, the two lonely women went their separate ways for the evening.

 

 

Amber wasn’t supposed to call her the next day; especially not on the private cell number that was given to a select few friends and family. This meant House had somehow obtained it and thus any mystery about how Amber might have come across it was simply in the degree of deviousness employed. For a woman who had just missed out on her dream job, Dr. Volakis was certainly upbeat; their initial stunted small talk turning into a friendly chat before either had realised the transition.

 

 

Cuddy ended the call with some reluctance as her eleven o’clock appointment paced irritably outside her glass doors. They set a date for tennis on Saturday, a late morning depressingly free for them both. When others had lazy breakfasts in bed with their lovers, the terminally busy and painfully single had to content themselves with hobbies and projects that were really just work with different branding.

 

 

Tennis was an exception though--sociable, fun and exactly the kind of fierce activity to fire up Cuddy’s underused muscles and competitive streak. For the first time in weeks, she was actively looking forward to something in her diary.

 

 

When she hobbled into the hospital on Monday morning, bags slung over her shoulders to allow maneuvering with her crutches, she was greeted with the sight of the last person she wanted to see in her office.

 

 

House smirked at her legs, the bottom of her right one encased in plaster. Enduring countless jibes about wanting to be just like him, she patiently went about readying herself for the day, waiting for House to run out of steam.

 

 

“Is it true you picked a fight with Cutthroat Bitch? Because that sort of event is the kind you need to call your old friend Greg about. Ten minutes of that material could render my entire porn collection obsolete.”

 

 

He leered slightly as he spoke those words, and she knew full well he would have the whole story already filed away. Hell, he’d probably seen her x-rays before the doctors treating her had.

 

 

“We figured you wouldn’t be interested on such a sunny day. No mud.”

 

 

Her tone was just on the friendly side of sneering but between the pain in her ankle and the bruises forming on the delicate skin over her triceps from the unwieldy crutches, she was frankly in no mood for his nonsense.

 

 

“What were you thinking, taking on a woman 10 years younger than you? You think you’re invincible there, Cuddy? You’ve got a broken ankle and a side order of torn ligament. Seems Cutthroat Bitch really took you to the cleaners.”

 

 

Cuddy rolled her eyes again at his childish behavior.

 

 

“Her name is Amber, or Dr Volakis, if you must. I won, House. I gave myself this little injury scoring the winning point, as a matter of fact. I’ll tell you something though, that was the best match I’ve played in a long time. All the other doctors are so damn deferential: don’t upset the Dean; let her win.  Amber played me like I stole her boyfriend, insulted her mother and copied her hairstyle.”

 

 

Cuddy found it hard to keep the excitement from her voice, even with limb trauma and not a little embarrassment competing with it.

 

 

“You got off on her wanting to beat you! Here I thought you wanted everyone to quake in fear, but you like the ones that don’t bow to your throne. Interesting. Shouldn’t surprise me though, I’ve seen you turn Monopoly into a contact sport. “

 

 

Cuddy sighed heavily and gave her watch a pointed glare. House could have five more minutes to mock her and then he was going back to his own office, dragged by security if need be.

 

 

\- - - - - - - - -

 

 

Amber stood in the drizzling rain outside the sliding doors of Princeton General’s main entrance and sighed deeply. The convenience of Starbucks had taken precedence over her usual morning routine, a reluctance to get out of bed at all forcing her hand over breakfast choices.

 

 

Today she returned to her old stomping ground, ready to resume her reign of terror in the Radiology department. Not that she was technically in charge of the department, but she did have a boss who valued his life and testicles too much to cross her. Hadn’t he kept her position open for eight weeks while she went off to play at medical Nancy Drew?

 

 

Amber knew she would be welcomed back with false enthusiasm and a wary glance, this being a battle zone she had long since conquered.

 

 

The problem was, it didn’t feel like such a victory to be here anymore. Those eight weeks trying to win House’s favor had been as frustrating as they were enlivening. For the first time since her internship, Amber had once again been fuelled by the heady adrenalin of competition.

 

 

It had never troubled her to make enemies, and despite being the best prospect to match House’s skill, she had been overlooked for a plastic surgeon trying to find a soul, a dull girl who thought being secretive was interesting, and, well, an idiot. The most annoying part of being able to decipher what made House tick was that she could understand, even rationalize each one of those decisions. 

 

 

There was comfort in knowing there was nothing more she could have done, every trick in her considerable arsenal had been deployed to back up her habit of usually making the right diagnosis. Just as she thought she was making herself indispensible, she was suddenly being shown the door.  To her chagrin, a fresh tear or two began to prickle in her eyes, another wave of the emotion that had whacked her when she realized that House had called her by her name.

 

 

For the hundredth time that morning, another thought nagged for her attention. With her practiced iron will, she suppressed it, forcing herself to think of this moment and the failed attempt at a fellowship. What she absolutely would not do was think about Lisa Cuddy and her stupid ankle.

 

 

The same Lisa Cuddy who had shown up at one of the swankiest country clubs imaginable in a skintight tennis dress that left almost nothing to the imagination. Whichever side of 40 the woman happened to be on, she was _absolutely_ stunning. Something that Amber was not going to dwell on when she had an intimidating entrance to plan.

 

 

Ten minutes since her arrival, and her shoes were still planted in the same spot on the rain-slicked tarmac. She knew that she could take an extra day without bothering with trivialities like permission, and so she turned from the sliding doors leading the way to her old life and headed back to the messy confines of her car.

 

 

The Dean of Medicine found that even an hour of sitting hunched over her desk left her in further agony. There seemed to be no comfortable way to work, and she thought longingly of the bed she had so cruelly abandoned that morning, complete with sturdy pillows to support her injured leg.

 

 

If being all-powerful didn’t mean working from home when she felt like it, well, what was the point? With military precision, she gathered the necessary papers and her laptop, filling the specially selected shoulder strap bags with enough work to send her into a coma of boredom at the very least.

 

 

Dreading a reunion with the crutches that bruised her arms so badly, she prolonged standing until the last possible moment, only to fall back into her chair at the sight of the person who had just strolled into her office.

 

 

 

Amber hadn’t bothered to knock, and she swept her rain-soaked hair out of her face as she casually dropped her empty coffee cup in Cuddy’s trashcan.  She seemed to enjoy Cuddy’s stunned silence as she eased into one of the chairs that sat in front of the desk.

 

 

“Can I help you, Dr. Volakis?”

 

 

Cuddy felt suddenly nervous, shuffling the few remaining papers on her desk in an attempt to seem occupied.

 

 

“We’re back to formalities? Even after I drove you to the ER listening to a series of curse words that would make a sailor blush? Interesting.”

 

 

The familiar predatory look was in evidence on Amber’s face, and it caused Cuddy to gulp, her mouth strangely dry.

 

 

“Fine, Amber then. I wasn’t expecting to see you here, though if it means you’re reconsidering the Radiology position, it’s great news. I’m just going home, in fact. I’ll be working from home for the rest of the day. If it’s important, track down my missing assistant and make an appointment for tomorrow. That’s usually how we do this kind of thing.”

 

 

Defensiveness wasn’t called for, but Cuddy could feel the bitchiness rising out of habit. She was going to close the younger woman down and get the hell out of there, before anything could go wrong and force her to stay.

 

 

“I didn’t say anything about wanting the job. I came to see how your ankle was. It’s not like I forced my way in here with a machine gun or anything.”

 

 

Cuddy eased her way into a standing position, careful to keep the weight off her injured leg.

 

 

“It’s still broken.  I really should get going.”

 

 

It was like the second part of her reply had never happened; Amber continued to lounge comfortably in the chair, not a flicker of movement.

 

 

“At least the swelling wasn’t too bad. It’s better to get the cast on sooner rather than later, more protection that way. Nice clean break though. You avoided surgery, which would have really sucked. Especially since your Ortho guy has a drinking problem.”

 

 

Cuddy spluttered slightly with indignation. Yet another idiot who thought she had to be walked through her own medical history. Couldn’t they read the _summa cum laude_ on the certificates hanging on the wall?

 

 

And she was going to pretend she hadn’t heard anything about her Head of Orthopedics. At least until she had secured the replacement she had already lined up.

 

 

With an irritated flourish, Cuddy slung her bags over her shoulder and reached hesitantly for her crutches. Maintaining a little dignity was always going to be the hardest part, and it went predictably wrong as she almost toppled over on her first step.

 

 

It was giving her a newfound respect for House’s mobility issues. He might bitch about the pain to make her guilty, but given the frustration she felt after a day, it was hard to believe how much he’d been low-balling it all these years.

 

 

As she righted her balance, Cuddy found Amber standing in front of her, a capable and steadying hand extended. Risking a glance at the other woman’s face, Cuddy thought she saw a flicker of insecurity, an acknowledgement that the gesture didn’t come naturally.

 

 

She shook her head, declining the unspoken offer. It didn’t come as a surprise when that was completely ignored and she felt her bags being slipped from her shoulder, Amber firmly in her personal space now.

 

 

“How are you getting home, Lisa? Obviously you didn’t drive yourself here.”

 

 

The use of her first name was jarring, and Cuddy realized she’d been expecting her surname. Was it the obvious similarity to House, or simply that she’d been getting used to it? Lisa was someone else, the woman who called her mother and spoke through gritted teeth once a week; the same woman who sat through boring dates with conventionally handsome attorneys or accountants and prayed for someone at the next table to choke just so she’d have a diversion.

 

 

She mumbled something about a car service, but found herself in motion, agreeing without question to Amber’s offer of a ride.

 

 

Cuddy tried not to stare at the scattered debris in Amber’s car. Somehow Cuddy had expected order instead of chaos, but she supposed not every medical professional could be a high-functioning anal retentive like herself.  She gave her address before Amber could ask for it, and began rifling through the papers that she had only recently stuffed inside her purse.

 

 

The drive was a peaceful one, the morning rush hour long since gone, and only the low murmur of the CD player disrupting the silence. Cuddy didn’t recognise the singer and didn’t ask, but the woman’s scratchy voice wasn’t unpleasant.

 

 

Sooner than expected, Cuddy saw her own street rolling into view. She hadn’t been paying too much attention, but the short journey meant Amber must know at least a couple of her own shortcuts.

 

 

Between the two of them, Cuddy made it out of the car with relative ease, casting a wistful glance at her own vehicle sitting useless in the driveway. Her bags taken care of, she continued with the successful formula of one crutch and Amber’s arm supporting her, and made her way indoors.

 

 

Her sofa had never looked so inviting, and she collapsed onto it with a grateful sigh, waiting until Amber’s back was turned before rooting around in her pocket for painkillers. She had no time to protest before she was being divested of her jacket, cushions shoved practically behind her back and under her injured leg. The efficiency was comforting, exactly how Cuddy would treat someone else in the same position.

 

 

Without a word, Amber wandered off in the direction of the kitchen, and Cuddy thought about calling out to ask her what the hell she was up to. It didn’t seem too important in the face of her tiredness, the still rampant pain in her leg that the pills were only just starting to dampen.

 

 

She had all but dropped off to sleep a few minutes later when Amber reappeared with a tray.  Sandwiches, fresh fruit and juice were laid out in front of Cuddy as her carer grabbed the TV remote and sat down in the armchair opposite.

 

 

“Uh, Dr. Volakis?”

 

 

She was rewarded with a glare.

 

 

“Amber? I’m really grateful to you for the help, but don’t you have things to do?”

 

 

The initial response was the soft ‘whoosh’ of the television coming to life. Moments later. Amber turned her head again to answer the question.

 

 

“And miss this chance to mock your TiVo season passes? House would never let me live it down.”

 

 

The awkwardness hung in the air, both of them painfully aware that House probably didn’t give a damn now that Amber had been discarded from his own private universe, and Cuddy was sure that something beyond curiosity had an IR specialist suddenly acting like a care-home nurse.

 

 

Accepting defeat, at least temporarily, Cuddy attacked her early lunch with gusto before turning to the tedious papers from her bag. Amber played her part perfectly – attentive and unobtrusive as the afternoon began to slip away from them both.

 

 

Both women retreated behind their laptop screens soon enough, and Cuddy found herself being helped to the bathroom door without having to ask. It seemed no time at all before Amber was switching on lamps and drawing the curtains.

 

 

Seemingly satisfied that she had done enough for the day, Amber packed her belongings away and tidied the last few things from the living room, soothing Cuddy’s OCD tendencies without being told.

 

 

She shrugged into her coat, mumbled a goodbye and stooped awkwardly to pat Cuddy’s shoulder on her way to the door. Before she could stop herself, Cuddy grabbed blindly at Amber’s arm. She wasn’t ready for this day to be over, Somehow, she had enjoyed the easy conversation and assistance more than she wanted to admit.

 

 

“Why did you give up your day for me? We hardly know each other.”

 

 

It was a dangerous question, and Cuddy braced herself for confessions of guilt over the tennis match and her injury.

 

 

Amber peered down at her questioningly, seeming to weigh her options before committing to an answer.

 

 

“I like spending time with you. I had a lot of fun on Saturday, even with the screaming, the cursing, and you kicking my ass in the third set. Why, didn’t you?”

 

 

Cuddy nodded, suddenly shy in the dim light of her own living room.

 

 

“Oh, I just didn’t want you to feel guilty,” she replied, her voice wavering slightly.

 

 

That provoked a throaty laugh from the younger woman, and Cuddy felt her hackles rise slightly.

 

 

“Guilty? You’re the one who threw yourself across clay like that! It’s not my fault you treat every point like it’s the last pair of Jimmy Choos on sale.”

 

 

Cuddy grimaced at the memory.

 

 

“Well, there’s no need to be bitchy about it. I paid the price for beating you, remember?”

 

 

She stopped there, following Amber’s gaze to where it fell on Cuddy’s hand. The same hand that was still wrapped gently around Amber’s slender wrist, where it had remained for the entirety of their conversation. Suddenly desperate to explain the contact without breaking it, Cuddy asked Amber to help her stand.

 

 

Of course, she stumbled on her unreliable leg, and the only smart way to fall was forward. Which just so happened to leave her head nestled against the taller woman’s breasts.

 

 

Logically, Amber should have pushed her away, returned Cuddy to a fully upright position. Instead, Cuddy felt hesitant arms wrap around her torso, pressing her closer to Amber when she had least expected it.

 

 

Cuddy breathed in the slightly spicy notes of Amber’s perfume, weaker after a whole day on her warm skin. She felt silk against her cheek, and her eyes closed involuntarily as breathing became something she had to concentrate on.

 

 

The hands pressing lightly on her upper arms came at last, and Cuddy felt empty at the thought of the contact ending. Instead of being shoved away entirely, Amber created a space just wide enough to allow her to stoop and press a cautious kiss to Cuddy’s forehead.

 

 

Seizing a chance she didn’t remember ever seeking, Cuddy tilted her head and captured Amber’s lips firmly with her own. The kiss was chaste for a second or two, still something that could be passed off as friendly affection.

 

 

Then there was pressure, heat and soon enough the warm wetness of tongues meeting and Cuddy knew she was somewhere far beyond the realms of friendship. Stranger than the situation itself was the fact that she didn’t care.

 

 

It felt too good to be anything other than a frankly brilliant idea.

 

 

The contact was over too soon, and Cuddy couldn’t prevent the soft whimper that escaped when Amber pulled away from the kiss. Her already shaky legs were threatening outright mutiny, but the other woman continued to hold her up.

 

 

Words seemed particularly elusive, and Cuddy felt nothing beyond a need to not have the night end there. She ignored the confusion, and the mocking voice in her head that was muttering something along the lines of “What the _hell?_” That the voice sounded remarkably like House was not something she wanted to dwell on either.

 

 

Taking charge once more, she let her hands tangle in the lapels of Amber’s coat. With a deep breath, she took her chance.

 

 

“Oh, Dr. Volakis, could you possibly help me into bed?”

 

 

The raised eyebrow and amused smirk told her that the suggestion had landed exactly as she wanted.  With a smile of her own, Cuddy hobbled determinedly towards her bedroom, Amber’s arm now firmly around her waist.

 

 

They paused in the doorway, a hundred unspoken doubts and questions flying silently between them, pale eyes meeting in the warm light.  But when Amber leaned in for another kiss, Cuddy found all the answers she needed.

 

 

When Amber sucked gently on her bottom lip, Cuddy was finally sure that she wanted the other woman in her bed.

 

 

They’d worry about the details in the morning.

 

 

 


End file.
